


Lakes of Areda: Wandering

by MoezuMokan



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Fantasy, Gay, LGBTQ Character, Original Fiction, Road Trips, Small Towns, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26491174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoezuMokan/pseuds/MoezuMokan
Summary: A story about those who were lost, either by time, friends, family, or in a vast wilderness. Esra finds herself needing change, Ostad can't help but help. Together they find themselves in the beauty of the world.





	Lakes of Areda: Wandering

**Author's Note:**

> This is an original work I have been writing in my spare time, it is not complete yet. Also it's very gay.

The air was cool and smooth that night, like whiskey on a hot summer evening. She looked deep into the hills beyond. The quiet air disturbed only by the echoes of her father shouting in her head. The calmness of the shore was terrifying. ‘How could something be so soft after such pain and sorrow, how could the gods allow the water to not be raging?!’ she thought, her head pounding with the now dissipating sobs, she could feel the redness on her cheeks.  
Each day she’d look out on this shore, and each day she’d find solace among it’s simplistic life and beauty. But today it only made her angry. Furious and hateful. It's sickening, non-interfering, way of life, how could it not help her when she needed it most. When she was all alone.  
She’d leave it all behind if she could. Not a soul, face, or voice could keep her from leaving had she the means. ‘ What are those means?’ she asked herself. The idea of money, and bus tickets flashed through her head. If she had enough she could take a plane clear to the velo land far south. But all she had was the folded 500 soph bill an old friend gave her.  
‘How the years weather the memories we have’ she thought, trying to recall the voice of said friend. Only a faint whisper bounced through her skull.  
Her politeness discarded her thought of thievery. Stealing the car, how could she do that to her father? He raised her despite all the difficulties. All her difficulties. Her mind resolved at her realization of this learned politeness. Taught through back hands and harsh words. Through silent tearful nights as she lay in bed in her empty room. She came to the conclusion of her means. The keys would be in his jacket, on the hat rack by the door, her bags would be light. She hated all the clothes she had. And the money for survival, He kept a stash somewhere behind the toilet, saving up for the next time he needs to file for divorce. She whispers a heartless goodbye as she slips back into the night. The engine screams to life, waking her father and stepmother. She doesn’t look back as she tears out of the grassy driveway.  
The only car for miles, the soft hum of the heater blowing musty air into her face. The louder rumble of the road beneath her, its gravel sticking to the wheels as she finds her way through the night. ‘The police must’ve been called by now.’ she thinks, keeping an eye out even more now, checking around turns and behind trees where they hide, coming from the only town on this side of the lake, ‘if any cars will be sent out they’d be coming from the north.’ she considers. The warmth of the car begins to burn, her head growing red with regret and fear. She steels her self, sure of what she is doing. Unsure of where she is going. She starts the radio, Cleirigh’s station is always more clear at night. And the reruns of the whitewoods radio hour are so fun to hear. ‘Perhaps I'll head north to Cleirigh.’ she thought, debating the route through Redding where the police are surely looking for her.  
Her headlights fill the darkness before her, the trees and cliffs a soft yellow as they pass by, the long winding road around the lake is usually a wonderful drive. Her anxiety prevents that tonight as houses become more common, and two police cars have passed by her. Presumably in the direction of her house. She needs to stop in town, a betrayal from her stomach requires it. The town’s quiet unassuming presence along the shore is forgotten as she comes into view of it. The town becomes the only thing in the world among the darkness of the mountains and lake. Even the moon has turned away from her. Making the sky much more dark than she’d hope for. A whisper from her right brings light of the slowly following police car in her rear view mirror, its sour white and black frame hidden behind blinding bulbs of warm glowing suns. unmistakable for its shape and little red crown that has yet to be turned on. ‘A trap?’ she wonders, before putting on her blinker and taking the next right turn. It follows her movement and her heart begins to race. “For fucks sake?!” she cries out into the night as her focus on driving safely increases. A whisper once more directs her down an alley, quickly she skids around the corner and into the tight passage, the police siren winds up and howls, sending a chill down her spine as she races through the alley, ripping past boxes and raccoons climbing out of the way. In her mirror the lights fade as she drives further from the police car, apparently too wide to fit through the tight gap. She turns onto a main road, the feel of asphalt pleases her. ‘They know my car now.’ she determines, turning to take a back road towards the mountains. No cars follow her along the winding canyon road.  
Her heart begins to calm once more, with the slight tilting of the car as it banks around turns her focus returns to the peaceful road before her. A windless night through the high trees. The radio buzzes in and out as she gets deeper into the mountains, eventually cutting out and leaving her in the deafening pseudo silence. She rolls down her window, a coolness fills the car and with it noise. Enough to drown out the thoughts of returning or giving up. Or worst of all giving into the cruel night.  
She keeps an eye out for road signs, ‘should have brought a map, even if I don't have a designation in mind.’ she regrets, her words bounce around her head until breaking out in a deep groan of pain. The empty seat beside her, where she used to sit so happily as her dad drove her to town for an ice cream or to see a movie at the drive-in on the 3rd Friday of the month. Eventually taken over by his new wife. Leaving her at home, or trying to fit in the back. Until they got pregnant and a new car had to be purchased. She was an afterthought by then. Two children later and she’d turned into the big sister, expected so much from her. She’s nearly 20 years older than the two. She counted on her fingers, ‘twenty. That's 4 hands. A family of hands, or it should have been. Now how many hands were there?’ her mind drifts back to the road ahead of her as a particular sign rushes past the car. Her memory says Lake Tion 25 miles.  
“There’s a village at lake tion.” she says aloud. Her smile widens as she goes further along the road. “I doubt police will be there.” she adds. Looking to the passenger seat for guidance. ‘Have I gotten away with this?’ she contemplates, counting each mile marker through the canyon. A quiet hum of radio talk welcomes her to the island in the vast darkness, a village called Betrol. She pulls into a parking lot and readies her bed. Slipping into a deep sleep within the hour.

Each step from her door is heavy and slow as she makes her way to the docks. Her two sizes too large jacket flaps in the wind behind her. The morning breath of the lake hits her like a brick. Her eyes widen with the falling shingles of the roof of sleep, her protection leaving her and the warmth of her memory of her comforter begins to fade. She pulls from her pocket a wooden pipe and struggles to light it among the wind.  
“Oh fuck you too!” she yells to the god of wind. He giggles at each failed match. She steps over the crab cages left on the pier and makes her way to the edge. A well placed bucket is turned over and sat upon as she readies her fishing pole. While baiting the hook she loses focus as her eyes fall upon a strangely parked car. Its rear wheels halfway submerged into the lake shore. Her curiosity is turned away when she finally sets the bait onto the hook. Standing from the bucket and casting into the morning lake. Her mind drifts from between bites and snags, and onto the car. Slowly becoming more submerged as the tide rises. The distant shore where it is parked begins to wake up as the sun makes its way around the mountains. Cars begin to appear on the road. An early workday for most in the town. Maybe it was a prank from some unruly teenagers. Leaving their poor classmates' car to be swallowed by the lake? She never knew of anyone to be so heinous while she was at Betrol Highschool. Garum Stalbad was quite the asshole but he would never drown a car. She worked around the idea until a deep bite made her remember her reason for being awake so early. She began to reel in the fish. Working it slowly to the surface of the water. As she pulled it high above her head the fish leapt from water, and all drag was lost as she finished the catch. A decent blackgrout with plenty of meat on it. She quickly gutted and bled the small beast and set up her camp stove. The wind had died down, proud of her quick catch surely, allowing for her to easily cook the fish in plenty of butter and garlic. Her heart sunk as she returned her gaze to the oddly placed car. With its front tires now half in the lake. She finished her fish and stood from her spot. Looked around for encouragement and when she found none, marched off the dock and around the shore to the car. ‘If it’s been abandoned i might as well make use of it.’ she thought while coming up to its side. Her boots now filled with freezing water. The windows were fogged up, making it hard to look inside for clues to its owner. Until she placed her face on the window and all became clear.  
She knocked hard on the glass.  
‘All the blankets in the world could not keep this cold from my bones.’ she thought as she pretended to sleep. Hoping to fool herself into real sleep. The morning coldness set in around four and woke her up shortly after. Her mind was hazy when she heard the knock. Thinking it to be among the many noises her mind had given her in her non-sleep. But then she heard.  
“Hello? You’re not allowed to park here.”  
She quickly unwrapped the blanket and looked around for signs of life. The fog created a silhouette in the window beside her. She wound it down and looked out of the car.  
“Hello?” she said with trouble as her mouth was frozen shut.  
“You can’t park here. This is the beach.” the lady outside responded. Looking confused at the young sleeper.  
“I'm sorry?” she works out of her mouth, her mind not yet caught up with the situation.  
“Yeah. your car’s gonna flood if you don’t move it soon.” the fisher adds.  
She sat up and looked out the car window to find the encroaching tide. “Oh gods!” she cried out and looked around. “What do I do? What do I do?” she panicked  
“I’d start with turning the car on.” the fisher responds calmly looking into the window.  
She nodded and started the engine, the heat began to blow it’s musty air right into her eyes as she shifted the car into first and gassed it.  
It sputtered to a halt.  
“Take it slow sweety, it’s not the end of the world. Just drive normally.” the fisher offered, stepping back from the car.  
She nodded in response and took a deep breath. Starting the car again and easing out to the grass.  
“How the hell did you park out here?” the fisher asked, walking up to the car's new found spot.  
She looked around with her face growing red. A sign reading Betrol lakeside Park was up by the road.  
“I uh, must’ve mistaken this as a parking spot last night. It was real late.” she replied to the fisher. Her ears burned with guilt and embarrassment.  
“Hmm, makes enough sense. Well glad I didn’t have to watch a car get taken by the lake. See ya.” the fisher responded and walked off. Her stomach asking for a coffee and something more than buttered fish.

Now that she was awake she moved her car to a regular spot, near a coffee shop on main street, the morning had changed this island town to a familiar but different lakeside city. It’s quiet roads and lack of people running about was far different than her old town. ‘my old town.’ she thought. ‘I’m never going back.’ she continued. Getting changed in the car and hopping out. 

The cafe was near empty, a very pleasant and warm feeling about it. Must have just opened. ‘What time is it?’ she thought , looking to her wrist for a forgotten watch. “Damn, I left my watch.” she blurted out. While entering the cafe. The wooden door slams behind her. The few people inside turn to look at the entering nuisance. She takes a seat by the door. A waiter comes by and hands her a menu. “Coffee?” escapes her mouth as the waiter begins to walk away. “Sure.” he responds and brings out a pot and mug. The coffee is terribly bitter and somewhat sour. There’s no cream or sugar on the table and she’s too scared to ask for one. She sits quietly over the menu. Deciding on a tasty sounding. “Simit and eggs danvi.” 

A familiar looking fisher sits at the bar. Drinking a cup in silence. She turns around every now and then to sneak a look at the girl. Meeting each other's gaze by accident results in the fisher making her way to the table.   
“I suppose you’ll want to know what I was doing sleeping in my car?” she asks as the fisher sits across from her. 

“Hmm, perhaps. But I'm more curious as to why you kept looking at me.” the fisher answers, taking a sip from the mug she brought over.

“I’m uh, a bit embarrassed. And you’re the only one who saw it. So…” 

“I see. Well that’s good, I was half expecting a fight, the way you were looking at me.” she laughs and finishes the mug. “So, what were you doing in that car? One night stand? Drunk?” 

“I was driving late last night and needed some sleep. This was the first town I could stop in.” she responds dutifully. Looking over to the waiter and raising her hand. He just turns away and continues talking with an older man. 

“Hmm. you order yet?” the fisher asks. 

“No, they haven’t exactly been helpful.” 

“Well that’s no good! Dale! We’re ready to order over here!” the fisher calls out. Drawing dale from his conversation with the elder to the table. “This little Missy wanted to order something.” 

the girl blushes and hides her face from the fisher, her heart skips a beat. 

“Sorry Ostad, What’s it for ya?” Dale asks, keeping his eyes on the notepad. 

“Just the simit and eggs danvi please.” she asks, looking to the waiter as he writes down. 

“And for you?” he adds, looking to Ostad. 

“Just the toast.” she says with a wink and smile. Dale walks back to the counter and starts the order with the chef. Ostad looks to the girl and smiles, 

“So what’s your name girly?” Ostad asks, resting her head on her hand. 

‘Should i be talking with a stranger?’ she asks herself, a whisper confirms her paranoia. 

“It’s Esra, and I surmise you’re called Ostad?” Esra responds, looking to the fisher for response. 

“Yeps, nice to meet you Esra. so are ya just passing through or do you plan on sticking around for a bit?” Ostad’s smile is fantastical, nearly blinding Esra in her morning haze. 

“I… shouldn’t talk to strangers.” she concludes, looking quite uncomfortable in her situation. 

Ostad nods and keeps silent, taking off her coat and hanging it on the chair. Her heavy coat makes her out to be much wider than she really is. A young looking miss, all be it taller than most, in a tight white Henley. Her dark skin is terribly smooth and reminds Esra of the velvet dress her mom wore when she was young. Esra blushes at the display. 

“When does someone become not a stranger?” Ostad asks, looking through Esra’s soul. 

“I don’t really know? I suppose it would be once you’ve introduced yourselves?” 

“Done and done. I’m Ostad, and you’re Esra.” she says with a smile, the sun wedges itself between the mountains and roof, creating a fine line of light that so graciously lands onto Ostad’s cheek. 

“So soft!” Esra emits, immediately grabbing at her mouth, hoping to catch the words before they reach the other side of the table. 

“Haha! And what is so soft?” she asks in response, 

“Oh, nothing, just um, your skin looks so soft and smooth.” 

“Should I be the one worried about strangers now?” Ostad jokes, leaning back a bit with a twinge in her eye. The waiter brings over the plates and leaves. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it in a weird way. But… ugh…” Esra responds and hangs her head, sadness washes over her. 

“No worries! So what do you do Esra?” Ostad begins the interrogation. 

“I uh, don’t have a job. I’m just in between points right now.” she answers somewhat honestly, while unwrapping the fork and knife, the eggs are flat, and the veggies with it aren’t exactly appealing, but the simit looks decent enough. Her hunger doesn't permit pickiness, forcing her to eat the inadequate food. 

“What do you do?” she asks, between bites.

“I’m a fisher. That’s to say. I fish when I need food or a bit of spending money. Otherwise, same as you.” she responds, her toast is quickly finished. And she leans back in her chair. 

She pulls out a pipe and whispers, “do you mind if I?” 

Esra shakes her head and breathes in a deep breath, the smoke smooth and wispy from Ostad’s lips. Smelling of huckleberries and soil. An intoxicating bit of love packed into a warm and well worn wood pipe. 

Esra takes a long moment before speaking again, assessing the options before her while she eats and watches the smoke rise. 

“Do you have a home?” Esra asks quietly. 

“Why? Did you want to come home with me?” Ostad answers with a bubble in her throat, a sweet but not so wholesome smile comes across her face. 

“No, I just… I thought you might have been homeless. I meant no offence.” 

“And how do I not take offence to that? Do I look homeless?” Ostad says smoothly, her eyes nearly dead as the moonless sky. 

“No! No, no… you just said you were the same as me. And I’m well…” Esra’s smile dulls and her eyes wander to the windows. Her heart wrenching with the admittance and new found realization of her new state. 

“I should have realized sooner. I’m sorry for the quick wit, I just get called a homeless bum a lot when I’m on the dock, but you really are. And at such a young age too.” Ostad’s once beaming smile has left and been welcomed with a sorrowful understanding. Esra Fixates on her lips. They’ve become almost heavy with knowledge. She shudders and rubs her eyes. Finally waking into the reality she has created. She quickens a false smile and laughs.

“It’s quite alright! I still have my car! And, and…” her false smile fails her, burning tears begin to well in her eyes. “I have nothing.” she cries and falls to the table. Ostad reaches across and places her hand on Esra’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Don’t you worry girly, don’t you worry.” she soothes, after a moment of silence she slides her jacket back on raising her hand for the bill. 

“Where are you driving to?” Ostad asks standing from the table. Esra looks up to her, wiping her tears quietly with her sleeve. The wool scratches across her face, it doesn’t help. 

“I was planning on Cleirigh.” she snivels, looking over her comforter's face. 

Ostad steps a square around where she stands. Looking out into the distance, her mind visibly working on something. 

“How about I go with ya. I’ve got friends in Cleirigh if you’d need a place to stay when you’re there.” her smile has returned, eyes now hopeful. 

Esra stares blankly at the fisher. ‘I’ve just met this person. Why is she being so nice to me? What does she get out of this? Am I being used? Trafficked? What do I say?’

“It’s fine if you’d rather go alone. I can call them up still and tell them about you. But it would put me at ease going with to see you safely get there. And that you’ll be fed and rested along the way. I’m sorry that I can only be a helpful stranger in this. But it’s better than you out there alone.” her voice speeds up as she talks, hoping to get her point across in a concise and easy to understand way. Her worry becomes visible on her face as she stares in return at Esra.

“I don’t know what to say, I just met you, Why would you help someone like me?” 

“I just want to do what’s right is all. And I think it’d be rather fun. something like an adventure.” 

“Ah!” Esra gasps, her face blushes red. 

“So, am I going with ya girly?” Ostad smiles and helps Esra out from the booth. 

“I would appreciate your help.” Esra says in an attempt to calm herself down. 

“Alright thank you! Shall we go pack?” Ostad marches out from the cafe and stands by Esra’s car. The morning haze over the lake has drifted away, leaving behind the mountains it tried to hide. Their vast forest reaching over the valley, it’s arms held wide to hold the water. 

Esra joined the fisher outside, her pipe hanging from her lips while she waits. 

“My house is just around the river mouth.” Ostad calls out, pointing to a wall of buildings lining the shore. Esra adjusts her glasses and squints as she traces her arm’s line.

She nods and jaunts to her car, Ostad taps the ember from her pipe and snubs it on the ground before opening the door. A wave of smells rushed to her nose, mostly a heavy sweetness from the rear. A soft blanket folded neatly among a small bag. A top it all a wide brimmed hat. 

The fisher looked over to the driver and smiled. “This is quite the car for someone on the run.” she admits with a laugh. Esra looks worried in her seat. “Is it?” she asks, her mind racing back to the police in Redding last night. 

“It was just a joke, what? Did you steal it?” she attempts to joke again. 

Esra’s eyes widen and her lips tighten as she starts the car. The radio tumbles to life. Blabbering about the news in Aida, the silence answers Ostad’s question. 

“So I’ve joined not just a runaway, but a thief, Is there anymore crimes I should prepare for?” she asks, sliding her seat belt over her thick jacket. 

“No, just that. It wasn’t really stealing, It’s my dad’s car. He just didn’t know I’d be taking it.” Esra admits. Pulling out onto the once again empty street.   
“Ah, that’s reasonable, I suppose.” Ostad figures, leaning her seat back slightly and doing her best to fit into the seat. A whisper from behind Esra takes her by surprise as she starts down the long road lined with still dark shops. She nods and smiles. 


End file.
